


Waiting on the Morning Sun

by seaglassgirl



Series: Through the Storm [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016), The Stand - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, F/M, Gen, Post-Apocalypse, Teenagers, The Stand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 19:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16456178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaglassgirl/pseuds/seaglassgirl
Summary: “Love didn’t grow very well in a place where there was only fear, just as plants didn’t grow very well in a place where it was always dark.”





	Waiting on the Morning Sun

September 30, 1990

 

Tap

"Is this thing on?"

Tap

"Soundcheck... okay now journal entry number three-hundred and seventy-two. It has begun. Doomsday is here. The one outcome we tried to stop- the worst possible thing to happen- its here and... 

I would be lying to think that this would never happen. My mom used to warn me that the things I wanted to do- that science- would be man's downfall, but I pushed that off because I mean lets face it my mom was a loon. She was alight with the fire of the good lord and refused to believe in modern medicine but... in the end wasn't she right? 

We created a flu virus: a flu virus that mutates every five hours. It was supposed to stay sealed in; the bunker was underground and people couldn't leave for set amounts of time to ensure no infections spread. But it got out, I'm not really sure how he got past security but he did and then he fled all the way to Texas, infecting at least 100 people directly. From there, it kept spreading. The media has already gotten their hands on the story but we're trying to keep it under wraps... or they are. I personally don't give a shit. I wish I could leave this shit hole and scream from the rooftops that the people they trusted to take care of them actually are the reason that 90 percent of the population on the earth will be dead by the next week. 

I'm sending this message out because I can't leave this bunker anymore. I've tested positive and that means that I'll be dead within thirty-six hours... The good news- for you people still alive and able to hear this- the good news is that there are some people, ten percent of the population, who will be able to come out of this pandemic alive. We aren't exactly sure why this is. We hadn't gotten far enough in our research to give a clear answer, but there are a few hypothesis that I can share.

Some families will survive purely based on genetics... (heh if there is some sort fo afterlife, Darwin is probably laughing his ass off right now), we've tracked down a few mutations to be maternally inherited but other than that-

Specific sources of water also seem to provide an active immunity that effectively fights off the virus, but that was also mostly speculation-

I'm running out of time here so that's all the information I can give you. I'll be sending this out to all the major national news outlets, but there will be a final tape left in Hawkins, Indiana for my daughter Max. MadMax, I know you will find this and please know that I love you so much. I'm sorry I wasn't around as much recently, but I was-am- always thinking of you. 

Journal entry number three-hundred and seventy-two... over."

* * *

October 15, 2018 

They arrived on a Monday night.

After witnessing a car full of dangerous looking men shout, scream and circle around the cul-de-sac two days ago, Mike had decided that everyone was to stay in the basement for the time being. Things outside were crazy and no one wanted to draw attention to the Wheeler house, especially Mike and Lucas who had adopted the role of unofficial leaders. It was the only course fo action when Dustin was acting like this situation was some game, Holly and Erica were too scared to make rational decisions and Mrs. Wheeler was delirious post-fever.

They were running out of food but there was too much fear associated with leaving the house. Neither of the boys wanted to admit that the thought of going outside paralyzed them with trepidation. It wasn’t just the looters and drunks on the streets, but there was the terrifying realization that they were some of the only people left in Hawkins. Only two days prior, Dustin had finally left his house after burying his mother, but he was determined to document his trip over to the Wheeler house. The shaky video of demolished buildings and rotting corpses around the town was enough to plague the nightmares of the entire group living in the Wheeler house.

A light tapping on the screen door sent the party into a panic. Lucas drew his slingshot, the only weapon he had been able to find in his house, and Mike grabbed a wooden candle holder from the nearest table. Dustin ushered the girls into a corner and proceeded to cover them with blankets.

Someone gulped audibly.

“Mike?” a tentative voice inquired from the other side and Mike felt his entire body loosen in relief, throwing open the door, he smiled at the sight of his sister. Nancy Wheeler, even with dirt on her cheeks and blood staining her jeans, looked like she had walked out of a movie scene: her lip gloss was still intact and her ponytail was high on her head.

“Nancy,” he breathed before wrapping his arms around her shoulders and leaning down to let his face fall onto the top of her head. A long time ago, Nancy had been taller than her younger brother and he had wrapped his arms around her legs whenever he hugged her, but now he towered over her. Holly and his mother ran out and almost tackled the embracing siblings to the ground.

“Who are you?” Mike heard Lucas ask and the silence that followed caused the Wheeler family to disentangle themselves and look behind Nancy. Mike hadn’t noticed her during his reunion, much too focused on his sister finally coming home, but now he was kicking himself for not seeing the girl. She stood awkwardly, her arms crossed and caked blood on her forehead. Her brown eyes looked distrustful, like an animal that was being hunted and her curly brown hair was tied up, but no where near as neat as Nancy’s.

“Everyone,” Nancy greeted with a small smile, “This is El. She’s a friend from Chicago. We came here together and let me just tell you, there’s no way I would be standing here if not for her.” The girl, El, nervously looked at the party who were now openly staring.

“Welcome,” Mrs. Wheeler greeted, stepping forward to give a warm hug to the stranger, “I hope you’ll excuse how messy the house is. I was sick a few days ago and I just haven’t had the time to clean up.” Mike watched as the girl’s eyes widened before meeting his own.

“Mom, I’m sure she will understand.” Mike added in, a small smile on his face while keeping eye contact with El.

 

* * *

 El didn’t sleep anymore. She was exhausted, and being in a warm basement in the company of people that were kind and welcoming should have been enough to lull her to sleep, but every time she felt herself relax, she would suddenly remember the nights she spent in her apartment, listening to the screams of the people around her. She didn’t know how many people’s blood-curdling screams she had listened to during those sleepless nights, but the number seemed to multiply whenever her memories approached her.

She had felt weak and helpless during those long hours and the smell of her mother’s decaying body only a room away hadn’t helped . So instead she stayed in her sleeping bag and tried to chase away the bad memories with the good.

(-weekends spent camping with her mother and sister- fresh baked apple pies in the summertime- her mother’s singing-placing in cross country races- reading books on the fire escape in their apartment- her mother getting home from a long shift wearing light blue scrubs-)

Her eyes snapped open as she heard someone get up and make their way up the creaky steps of the basement. She didn’t move until after she heard the door shut quietly. Sitting up, she looked around her and frowned.

She had been placed between Nancy and Lucas’s younger sister Erika.

The rose of sleeping bags reminded her of summer camps in hot cabins, but the memory was short-lived. This wasn’t a summer camp sleepvoer and she would not be going home in a week. She wasn't even sure they could last living in this house for another week. 

She noticed the empty sleeping bag and her frown deepened in thought.

Nancy’s brother, Mike, was nothing short of an enigma. Nancy had talked about him and her on again off again boyfriend for the entirety of their trip to a point where El felt like she knew the boys. However, while everyone else had welcomed her with open arms, Mike was polite but distant. His behavior reminded her of the way she had treated strangers on the subway that she knew she would never meet again. He was detached and cold towards her, and while she understood distrust, a part of her felt annoyance by his attitude. She was a part of their group for the time being and they could be the only living people in Hawkins, so getting to know each other was inevitable, wasn’t it?

Getting up as quietly as possible, El moved to follow him into the house.

Shutting the door to the basement, she was faced with Mike sitting on the floor, his legs stretched out and his back against the wall. There was a small candle flickering that cast a small yellow light in the cramped hallway. Cold, dark brown eyes gazed up at her in confusion.

“I’m sorry,” she conceded, her eyes dropping to the ground in embarrassment, “I heard someone get up and I couldn’t sleep…” The silence hung around them for a beat and she felt her cheeks heat up.

“It’s alright,” he conceded in a small voice before wiping his eyes. She realized, with a wave of shame, that he had been up here to cry and she had intruded on his private moment.

“I didn't know, I’m sorry, I’ll just-“ she made a move to go back down the stairs and into the darkness of the basement where she could hide under her blanket in shame.

“Wait,” his voice was calm and soft, “It’s really okay, if you want to sit with me you’re welcome to.” She obeyed and sat across from him, her shoulders sagging in relief and her legs stretching out. The small candle sat between them, casting an ominous light in the hallway, as the silence engulfed the area between the two teenagers. She wondered if he was crying for the loss of his father. Nancy had told her, in great detail, about her parent’s crumbling marriage and her distant and apathetic father. The older girl had vented to El how unimportant her father had made her nerdy little brother feel throughout their childhood. It was a surprise to El when someone had muttered that Ted Wheeler was buried in the backyard.

“I came out here because I didn’t want to wake anyone up,” Mike ventured after a few moments, “My mom hasn’t been getting enough sleep and I really need her to sleep and and hopefully feel better or at lest get a grip.”

“Your mom is very lucky to have a son that cares about her so much.” El’s voice was solemn but soft and she watched as his eyes softened.

“She’s the best,” Mike agreed, nodding, “She used to buy me all this DnD stuff even though my dad hated it, but she always tried to help me succeed in what made me happy-“ there was a pause as his lips quirked into a small, nostalgic smile “-I’m glad she got better, but I just need her to come back fully and be a mom again. You know?”

El nodded.

“My best friend went missing almost two weeks ago and I feel like we are all just waiting to die now.” She looked up to look at him and she saw that he was looking to the side, his eyes glazed over in thought. The candle's flickering light highlighted his tense jaw and revealed the stress his body was trying to keep in.

“I sometimes feel like that too,” she agreed solemnly. She remembered setting out to leave Chicago, no destination in mind and the only driving force in her mind being the terror of becoming another corpse, “After my mom died and the riots stopped, I would lay in my bed at night and listen to people scream and gunshots go off. I had this horrible thought every time someone screamed because it was so stupid to me. I thought ‘I wonder if they think someone is going to go save them’ and then I began to wonder if I was going to end up like that, like just another rotting corpse gathering flies. It felt like death was inescapable, but I just knew that I had to get out and then your sister found me.”

He was silent after she finished her ramblings. She looked down at her hands suddenly feeling exposed in a way she hadn't felt in a long time, like she had just performed in front of an audience and no one was clapping.

“That sounds like something out of a horror movie,” his voice was soft and her head snapped up only to meet his eyes which suddenly looked warm, "I'm sorry you had to deal with that alone."

“It was hard, now it’s over.” she agreed robotically. 

"It's not over," Mike replied and El could see his fists tighten even in the dim light, "but you don't have to deal with it alone anymore."

 

* * *

 Jonathan Byers had never been a fan of the dark. He had stayed away from horror movies as a child and as he had grown up he had still stayed away from most things marked horror. It was only fitting that he was traveling alone across the country running over corpses and avoiding trigger happy vagabonds. 

There wasn't much more to go on his journey (he was already in Indiana) but he had a strict rule he abided by: no traveling by car after sunset. The first time he had tried to drive throughout the night, he had run into a stalled truck in the middle of the road. He and his car had survived, virtually unscathed, but he didn't want to take any more risks after that. 

Tonight he was in a small apartment building a few miles off the highway. The place was small and a little messy, but there were no dead bodies so he wasn't complaining. All of the canned food was gone, but there were a few granola bars someone had left behind in their haste. He couldn't sleep much, even after searching the apartment for any other person, double locking the door and having his shotgun next to him on the bed. Part of being alone for the past few weeks had made him always on edge. 

He had run into a little bit of trouble a few days earlier, and that had also shaken him to the core. 

After leaving New York and navigating himself around the country, dodging roadblocks and rotting corpses, he had found himself in a small town looking for shelter for a night. The house he had picked seemed to be empty and quiet but as he had begun to fall asleep, he was awoken by the sound of someone outside. There had been a moment in his terror that he had thought about just shooting the other person and then going back to sleep (he had been so tired and there he was finally getting to sleep) but then his rational mind had told him to hide in the closet. 

He had quickly and quietly burrowed himself into a pile of dirty clothes at the back of the messy closet before setting in. The new situation he was in also wasn't too bad and he would have fallen asleep, but Jonathan hadn't slept a wink mostly based upon the distant screams that had assaulted his ears. There were horrible, blood curdling screams every half hour at least (Jonathan only knew this because he would look at his watch every time another scream broke through the silence). He could hear shouts too as well as see through the slats in the closet door that there were lights outside. The screams never got better and sometimes, the words mixed in ("Please don't hurt me!" "I'll do anything-") made his blood run cold. 

He hadn't left the closet the next day, opting to stay for another night until he was sure that the people out there were far away by the time he hit the road again. The next night had been still and silent, but he was only gifted with a few hours of restless sleep.

Since then, he had tossed and turned every night for hours before grabbing a wink of sleep. 

The pay phones had also continued to not work and he couldn't reach anyone anymore. He wasn't sure if Nancy had made it to Hawkins (although, he tried to tell himself that if anyone was going to make it through this apocalypse, it was going to be Nancy Wheeler) or if his brother and mother were alive still. He was sure that the cabin in the middle of the woods was still his safest bet.

Only two more days and he would be at the cabin finally. With the October chill setting in, there was no time to waste.

He just hoped that he wouldn't be the only one to make it to the cabin. 

* * *

October 16, 1990

Max Mayfield stopped at a tiny gas station outside of Bloomington, Indiana to get a few bags of chips and a couple of sodas for lunch. Sure, her food choices weren't the best, especially for a young woman expecting, but she needed the fuel and the caffeine (and besides, all of the healthy food was rotten at this point). She had decided, very early on in her journey, that abandoned gas stations were creepy. There was something about the lack of human presence in spots like these that gave her the chills. 

She had been traveling for close to a week now and she hadn't avoided trouble. There had been a few gangs (mostly old men with too many guns and a creepy glint in their eyes), road blocks (most of which she had been able to drive around thanks to her motorcycle), and the very common corpse in the middle of the road. The gangs had been the worst, but thankfully she had picked up a few more guns on her journey and after spending years of her life fighting off her abusive stepbrother, creepy men with God-complexes didn't frighten her like they used to. 

But she did avoid them very well.

There had only been one incident so far involving a single older man also riding a motorcycle.  He had seen her on the road and followed her for a few miles before she had sharply turned off the road and into a gas station.  She didn't like that she had blown his brains out, but she also wouldn't hesitate to do it again if someone came near her child. 

The other problem was that she couldn't stop thinking about the little peanut growing inside of her. The long, open road and the restless nights alone were en environment that bred self contemplation and she couldn't help but think about things that could have been. 

Like right now, as she was finishing up a bag of potato chips while drinking a soda, she was sure her mother would have been scolding her. Her mother's voice would be laced with annoyance and resignation ("You're eating like that even though you're pregnant? I can't believe that I raised a daughter like you!") and Max would laugh or yell, depending on the mood. Her father would laugh, but make her a sandwich and hand it to her with a wink ("Eat like a normal human Madmax!"). She wasn't sure how Billy, her stepbrother, would be treating her right now. Would he still taunt her mercilessly? Or would he have let up?

Throwing the empty bag of chips and soda into the trash, she grabbed a postcard off the rack and folded it into the pocket of her jacket. 

She was almost there. 


End file.
